


Weapons

by baranduin



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Book, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet set during the night the hobbits meet Aragorn in Bree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> Written around 2004.

Frodo woke from a deep sleep and watched Strider in the flickering light of the fire. The man did not move or give any sign that he realized Frodo had awoken. He merely sat in his chair and listened to the night sounds with his head cocked a little to one side, one hand curved loosely around the bowl of his pipe as it lay in his lap.

A thought popped into Frodo's mind that almost made him laugh. _"I wonder if a hobbit gave him that name."_ He had no idea where the thought had come from, but truly, Strider's naming could well have happened that way. After all, a goodly part of the Bree inhabitants were of hobbit kind. Not that the man looked hobbity in the slightest, and not only because of his size. There was something so very lonesome about him, certainly in how he spoke but most of all in the grim set of his mouth and the gleam of his eyes.

Strider turned his head and stared at Frodo. "You must sleep," he said, slipping his pipe into his shirt pocket and dropping his hand to rest lightly on the hilt of his sword.

Broken sword. What good would that be to them once they'd left Bree? And why would someone who seemed so very sensible choose to carry a useless weapon when there were so many dangers that called for a keen, smooth blade? Strider himself had said it was of no use when he'd shown it to them.

"I have other weapons," Strider said in his soft voice. 

Frodo started. He must have been staring hard, but he was glad he had been for he needed to know more of this man. He might be a dear friend of Gandalf's, but he had been unknown to Frodo until a few hours ago and their introduction had not been pleasant or even courteous. "That is good. I believe we might well need them soon."

Strider nodded. "Hopefully we will stave off the need for weapons for a while if my plans go aright, but I do not doubt that at some point on the way they will be necessary. What of you, Frodo? Have you a weapon? Or is the sheath fastened to your belt empty?"

That made Frodo smile a little though it gave him a pang in his heart. _Bombadil! Oh, we could use your singing now. That would send away those riders. Perhaps._ "Not empty though we are all untried in using swords. But we are willing and we can learn."

Strider did not speak for several minutes, instead looking into the hearth fire for so long that Frodo finally started wondering if the man was a reader of portents in glowing coals and hot ashes. Eventually, just as his eyelids began to grow heavy with sleep, Strider turned to him again, this time with a brief smile.

"Good. You'd best get some sleep now while you can. We must put as many miles between us and Bree as we can tomorrow. And ..."

"Yes?" Frodo murmured.

"And the four of you must keep a little strength for sword practice tomorrow evening."

Though Frodo groaned outwardly in protest, inside he felt a little bloom of warmth grow that included some small bit of fellow feeling toward Strider as well as a brief burst of confidence. As he fell asleep, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his Barrow sword. Soon he would know how to wield it. Soon.


End file.
